


The Sweet Brush

by ya3ani



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Feminization, Femmeplay, Knotting, M/M, Pink Undies Sunday, Possessive Behavior, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:52:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ya3ani/pseuds/ya3ani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles slips into <a href="http://www.agentprovocateur.com/us-main-nav/lingerie/knickers/info/classic-tie_sides~red">lingerie</a>. Derek approves. </p><p>Inspired by Pink Undies Sunday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweet Brush

**Author's Note:**

> Often feminization kink includes humiliation. This one does not.

 

Balance had never been Stiles' strong suit. 

It was always the want-to-do's against the must-do's, the school against the not-dying, the normal relationships against the primal, terrifying ones – to say nothing of his actual balance, which was what was currently his biggest problem. 

The leather under his bare thighs squeaked whenever he dared to move, his sweat rolling down the matte black material and finding its way into the couch. From his perch on its arm he looked out at the empty house, eyes open yet unseeing. A shiver of pleasure rolled through him from the tips of his toes to the ends of his fingers when he had to shift forward, and he groaned in frustration. All day he'd been waiting for this moment, eager to show Derek what he'd been preparing, and now he had to wait more. Somehow the ten minutes that Derek was taking to go to the pharmacy eclipsed the eight hours that Stiles had been looking forward to this moment.

He wasn't supposed to touch himself, but he was pretty sure a few more rocks on the edge of the couch and he'd come all over. It'd earn him a spanking, Derek's harsh palm on his blood-pinked cheeks, and usually he'd be all for that...but for once Stiles wanted to be good. It was a novel feeling. 

Looking down at the pink satin outlining his hard, wanting cock, Stiles sighed and mentally promised it all the tender loving it could get if it would just stop torturing him for a few minutes. 

It didn't work.

A key slotted into the apartment door and Stiles almost slipped off, his head-first dive into the coffee table only stopped by a black blur: Derek. 

Lips against Stiles' ear. “I told you not to move.” 

“I didn't move; gravity moved me. Very different things.”

“You're getting the underwear you bought dirty.” Derek palmed Stiles' thighs and rubbed at the dusting of hairs there, his hands dry compared to the sweat-wet slick of Stiles' shaking legs.

Stiles swallowed, wanting those hands on his body in a cruder way. “The sexy ones are called 'panties', you heathen.”

“Hmm.” Derek's shadowed gaze tracked Stiles up and down, a warmth that rushed through Stiles like an August breeze. It still surprised him when Derek showed any appreciation, any sense of how special what they had truly was. “Whatever they're called, I can take a hint. You bought panties. You want to be a girl. My girl.”

“I'm a boy,” Stiles said, his voice quieting as Derek's words hit him like a wave.

“For tonight,” amended Derek. “My girl for tonight." Sweat smeared on Derek's skin from Stiles' answering nod, the syrupy feeling of that word becoming a haze over every action. Derek's _girl_. “Tell me. Why these ones.”

A few blinks later, Stiles realized Derek was talking to him – of course he was, but that was hard to remember with Derek kneading his body and slipping clever fingers right along the line of pink satin.

“You always tear off my boxers. I wanted something you could untie, even if it makes us more deviant.”

Derek settled a hand around Stiles' neck and one placed over the front of the panties, the first touch he'd deigned to give Stiles' poor cock. “There's nothing deviant about you being beautiful.” 

“Whatever, dude.” Stiles ducked his head into Derek's shoulder, hiding his heightened flush.

“My beautiful girl.” A tug on Stiles' hips had him picked up then tossed backwards onto the couch to lay out with his feet up on the arm, Derek's hands around his spread ankles. Long moments passed as Derek stared down with greedy eyes, his gaze traveling over Stiles' body like permission to look and touch was a granted. In the cold air Stiles' nipples started to peak, and Stiles resigned himself to the fact that Derek was probably going to kill him without even touching him. “Did you go to school wearing these today?”

Stiles swallowed. _Fuck._ The blush felt like a burn on Stiles' face, but he kept Derek's gaze. “Yeah.” 

Derek's grip on Stiles' ankles tightened and he cleared his throat. “What were they covering up? An asshole and a cock? Or a pussy and clit?”

“A pussy,” Stiles made himself answer, trying not to stumble over the word. Derek raised an eyebrow and put a finger right at the head of Stiles' cock, where a dark spot was growing on the satin of his new panties. “And a – clit.”

“Whose pussy and clit?” asked Derek, somewhat hoarsely.

A deep swallow. Stiles knew what Derek wanted him to say. “Yours.”

“My...?”

“Your pussy,” Stiles said, his voice thick. “Your clit.”

Derek made a harsh noise in his throat and bent over the arm of the couch, biting suddenly at the pale skin of Stiles' inner thigh like he couldn't stand to have his lips away from Stiles for another moment. The teeth shocked a yelp from Stiles that turned to a moan when Derek slid upwards, tonguing the line of Stiles' muscles and stopping right at the edge of the panties. Derek laved and licked at the crease of Stiles' thigh. 

“What did you do about gym class?” Derek pulled back to ask, eyes shadowed. 

“I changed in the bathroom.”

“Did anyone see you?” Derek's voice was starting to sound strained. "Did anyone see my girl?"

“No,” promised Stiles quickly. “No one. I – couldn't have played anyway.”

“Didn't want to get your panties messed up?” Derek asked, leaning back into the cradle of Stiles' hips. Stiles nodded half-heartedly, though that hadn't been the only reason. Derek would see exactly why Stiles couldn't have moved that much in just a few minutes. 

“Please,” Stiles said, staring at the hard curve of Derek's jaw. Stiles wanted – Derek's hands and his tongue, his cock deep inside. Everything.

“Anything you want,” Derek replied, gritty and true. “Whatever my good girl wants.” Stiles sighed in restrained happiness. The number of times Derek had called him a variation of 'bad' had to be astronomical by this point, but 'good' – Stiles was almost never _good_. 

“Lick my c – clit,” he begged, watching Derek's heated gaze flick to the panties in front of his face. Eyes locked with Stiles' the whole time, Derek leaned down and dragged his tongue up the long line of Stiles' cock like he was eating out a woman. The satin clung to his tongue, the pink fabric darkening further with the spit, and Stiles let out a coughed sob at the pull of it on his cock. 

Derek hushed him then went back for more licks; on anyone else it would have perhaps looked kittenish, but predatory instincts ran too deeply in Derek and he looked like nothing less than a leopard – dark and dangerous.

“Come around,” Stiles said, trying to move so he was sitting on the couch normally. Derek helped, going to his knees before Stiles as soon as they were situated. They kissed, Derek leaning up into Stiles' space and claiming his lips, pillowing kisses onto him before biting at his mouth softly. Like always Stiles couldn't help moaning – he loved kissing more than he'd ever thought he would. Loved kissing Derek, specifically: how he could read Derek's feelings without either of them having to use words, how he could communicate back, and how Derek would try to understand with a patience he never possessed during conversations. 

Right now Derek was – happy. Reverent. He wasn't smiling, but he was kissing like Stiles was something special, like he didn't know how long he'd have this chance. Stiles put teeth into the kiss. He wasn't going _anywhere_.

“Lick my clit,” Stiles said again more forcefully after Derek and he parted, breath hot between them. Stiles grabbed Derek's hand and placed it on his front, right at his belly button where it slid down to the upper half of the panties, Stiles' cock poking at the mesh. 

Derek did as he was told, bending forward and coming up Stiles' cock in smooth arcs, and okay – yeah, wow. There was fabric between Derek's tongue and Stiles' cock and Derek wasn't even licking the head, but _god_ that felt good. 

“So pretty for me,” Derek took a breath to say. “Wrapping yourself up like a present.” He went back to licking and grabbed the bows on either side of Stiles' hips, twisting his fingers in them. It was rougher than he'd been all night with Stiles, a return to something like normalcy. Stiles' hand spasmed helplessly on the leather of the couch. 

“Derek,” said Stiles quietly, before he could stop himself. 

“Do you want me to eat your pussy?” Derek asked, his hands tugging at the straps that held the panties onto Stiles.

“I – “ Stiles swallowed, imagining Derek licking at his hole and giving him small slaps on the ass to bring the blood up to the top of his skin. “It's just...“

Gaze hooded and mouth hungry, Derek kissed at the head of Stiles' cock through the pink fabric. He moved on to a different question. “Can I unwrap you?” 

Jerkily Stiles nodded, his muscles only half under his control. He watched as Derek pulled the long, tapered end of one of the satin ties loose, kissing there when it was done, then pulling at the other one. Sat as he was gravity kept the panties on Stiles' body, so Derek had to pull the top down. He did so with eyes riveted on Stiles' cock, his breaths coming quickly and his eyes hotly eager. 

A moment later Derek was dragging Stiles forward a few inches on the couch, hands under Stiles' knees to push him up and expose his hole – 

Stiles felt more than heard the moment Derek saw it. Like a tiny current had gone through his body, Derek froze completely, mouth open and fangs half-dropped. 

“My slit's been wet all day,” Stiles said, his mouth dry with the heavy, aching words. “In school, too.”

“You – “ Derek's head dropped down, his finger prodding at the tight muscle there, tapping the smooth black toy that Stiles knew was buried inside him. “How long?”

“Since 9am. I went to the bathroom and slipped it in after first hour.” It was a small thing compared to Derek but it was enough to be a constant presence in Stiles' hole, never letting Stiles forget exactly what he was doing. The flared end had _tapped_ on every single seat Stiles had the misfortune of occupying, a torturous experience made worthwhile by thoughts of this: Derek reduced to soft words and shock, his eyes wide as if he couldn't believe he'd be worthy of anything like what Stiles had done.

“That's why the lube was gone,” Derek put together, sounding dazed. Stiles nodded, biting at his lip. He'd forgotten it in the bathroom after he'd put the toy in himself; some unlucky teacher or student had probably already found it. It was why Derek had left Stiles all alone and in his new panties for those awful ten minutes.

“I thought about you inside me all day.” Stiles lifted a hand to Derek's cheek and rubbed his thumb over it. “I was dripping – I wore black jeans because I was afraid everyone might see.” 

“No one else gets to see you like this, Stiles,” Derek said fervently with narrowed eyes.

“Duh,” Stiles said, affectionate.

“I want to fuck your pussy,” Derek confessed, hands going harsh on Stiles' hips.

“What happened to giving your good girl 'anything'?”

“You don't want my cock?” Derek straightened between Stiles' legs, tipping him further back into the couch and exposing Stiles' ass and the toy even more. “Because it looks like you're ready for me.” As if his words needed any emphasis whatsoever, Derek found the end of the toy and slowly pulled it half-way out. It had been in so long that Stiles had gotten used to it, and the ridges and dips of the toy sparked along his hole – his _pussy_ – and made him cry out. 

“Okay, yes, please – Derek,” Stiles panted, shivering and sweating. “Please fuck me, please – ” 

Quick as only the supernatural could be, Derek grabbed the plastic bag from behind him and shucked his pants off, rough and uncaring of his movements. He was – hard. Which sounded weird, maybe, but usually Derek didn't get fully hard until he'd been touched or teased, yet this time all Stiles had done was splay out on the couch in pink satin panties. It was as good an acknowledgement for Stiles' gift as he was likely to get. 

Perfunctorily Derek slicked his cock up and joined Stiles on the couch, moving him so they were spread out on the couch together. 

“Lady's choice,” Derek mumbled, hand on the toy inside Stiles, twisting it and rubbing at the cleft of Stiles' ass. “Which way do you want me to take you?”

It only took a second for Stiles to decide. They always liked to fuck fast, so hands-and-knees was an old stand-by. Cowboy came in second, as Derek loved watching Stiles' face as he rode, loved sticking his fingers in Stiles' mouth to fill him up on both ends. Today, though, Stiles could tell Derek was feeling different – giving, if the word could be applied to him. Stiles wanted to see his face when he came, wanted to be able to kiss him. 

“Like this,” Stiles suggested, putting his hands behind his own knees and pulling his legs back. “Fuck me like this.” 

Derek's adams apple visibly moved when he swallowed hard and stared. Stiles had made the right choice. With a huff Derek slid up Stiles' body, pulling at the toy until only the end was inside Stiles. “Fingers?”

“Ah,” Stiles moaned, “I'm wet, I'm ready – you don't have to, I'm already –“ With a last gentle pull the toy was out and dropped to the floor, leaving Stiles asshole gripping air before tightening right back up. Stiles keened once and threw his head back. “Derek, _now_.”

The lube made a smacking sound when Derek let his cock fall straight onto Stiles' hole, a reverberation that reminded Stiles of all the times they'd done this before. Before he penetrated, Derek reached under Stiles and grabbed at the forgotten panties, wresting them from between the couch and Stiles' skin. He slipped them up, watching to see if Stiles had any complaints, then looped one of the long ties around Stiles' dick. 

“Fuck,” Stiles moaned. Derek tied it quickly, the pressure increasing the tiniest bit. It wouldn't make it impossible to come, or even painful – just slightly more difficult.

“I want to feel your pussy get tight around me when you come on my cock. But not yet.” With those words Derek leaned down and kissed Stiles, threading the fingers of his left hand with Stiles' right and lining himself up with the other. 

The head of his cock popped into Stiles with a rush of stretchy-pain, and Derek peppered Stiles' face with kisses as he grimaced. The toy had been small. Derek was...not. “So good for me,” Derek muttered, fucking in with a slower snap of his hips than normal. “Such a good girl.”

Through his haze of pure lust Stiles heard pitiful moans, a constant refrain of them filling the air. Derek was busy staring down at Stiles, mouth a grim line and eyes afire, so it wasn't him. The next few Stiles tried to swallow back down, almost biting his tongue as he fought the pleasure. 

“Let me hear you,” demanded Derek in a rough voice. “I want to know – you. You.”

That was all Stiles needed to let go. He let his body make whatever noises it wanted, from the strange hiccups when Derek fucked him in a staccato beat to the low keen when Derek pulled out so slowly that Stiles swore he was dying. 

It was one of those latter strokes, both of them covered with sweat and the couch all but ruined by it, that Derek started to torture Stiles. Never before had Stiles fully appreciated being _taken_ like a trophy as Derek so often did, but the new deliberate pace Derek set was maddening. What made it worse were the words – Derek spoke the whole time, telling Stiles how beautiful he was, what a good girl he was taking Derek's cock, even asking if it was a safe week, saying that he hoped it was because he was going to come deep inside Stiles' pussy with no condom between them. 

“Harder,” begged Stiles when he felt he could speak. Inside of him Derek's cock was huge as ever and rearranging Stiles' body to fit it perfectly, deep like Stiles' fingers could never get. To help convince Derek to give in, Stiles bared his neck, arching his back and letting his mouth drop open in an inviting way that he knew drove Derek's dual nature to a fury. 

One anguished noise later and Derek was rutting into Stiles, bending him completely in half and feeding Stiles his cock to the hilt every time with no pause for breath or for thought. With the air driven out of his lungs Stiles was reduced to pleased wheezes and quiet gasps, his hands gripping Derek's taut shoulders as Derek fucked down into him with all the power and control that a werewolf could summon.

“Going to come,” Derek gritted out, his eyes flicking down to Stiles' stomach. “Want me to rub your clit?” Stiles nodded frantically, his aborted humps up against Derek useless in the face of all of Derek's unfair strength.

“Derek,” Stiles cried out when a hand finally landed on his clit, rubbing it up and down, circling the head. With only one hand to hold himself up, Derek couldn't stay balanced and still fuck as hard as he had been, but the snaps of his hips were perfect anyway, the dirty sound of lube loud in the room. 

“I'm going to make you come,” Derek promised, voice animalistic and possessive, his cock pulsing inside Stiles on each thrust. He took a moment to pull at the tie of the panties around Stiles' cock, the satin easily slipping away and up to lay on Stiles' stomach. “Be a good girl and come on my dick, Stiles.”

That was it. With a hoarse shout Stiles came everywhere, still impaled on the thickest part of Derek's cock and almost crying with the relief of finally being able to let go and give completely into the pleasure. His come shot up onto Derek's hard stomach and chest, coated the front of the satin panties that were draped over Stiles' front. 

“Beautiful,” Derek muttered, and pinned Stiles' legs all the way to the couch, Stiles' knees next to his ears. Staring into Derek's eyes, Stiles watched as he came next, Derek's eyelashes fluttering and his whole body stretched tight with tension and slicked with sweat.

For a long moment Derek stayed deep inside, seemingly heedless of the fact that Stiles was basically crumpled in to the couch. When he levered up his face still looked wracked with pleasure, even though orgasm had to be over by now. That's when Stiles felt it. 

“I – dude?” he asked, shifting uncomfortably. “There's something...” 

Belatedly Derek looked down Stiles' body like he'd be able to see his own dick if he tried hard enough. He dropped his head to Stiles' shoulder. “Fuck,” he said succinctly, sounded more winded than Stiles had ever heard. “I'm – we're.”

“Your dick is moving inside of me,” Stiles said, an edge of incredulous panic in his tone. 

“Knotting,” explained Derek, a thread of something tired entering his voice. “It's starting. We – have a minute or two before I can't pull out anymore.” That said he started to ease out of Stiles, his hand going down to where they were joined to gently take care of Stiles' stretched skin as he did so.

“Wait wait wait,” Stiles was saying before he could think twice, wanting to take away whatever he'd just heard in Derek's voice. In theory he knew what knotting was; with his endorphins high, it didn't sound so scary. “Will it hurt me?”

Halfway out of Stiles' body, Derek paused. “Yes,” he admitted. “Or. Maybe.”

“Will it feel good for you?” Stiles ran a palm over Derek's face, the scruff from where he hadn't shaved in the morning. Derek's eyes darkened and he nodded tightly. “Then I want it. Get back inside me.”

“Are you – “

“I'm sure,” Stiles cut off Derek. “I'm wetter than I've ever been. My ass can take it.” Stiles saw the moment Derek gave in and slid back home, his face turning into something soft and vulnerable right before Stiles' eyes. 

“You mean,” Derek corrected, face blissed-out, “that your pussy can take it.” 

“Oh, fuck you. You do not get to make me come again. I am all fucked-out. Congratulations.” 

Derek stared down viciously and worked his hips, his half-grown knot splitting Stiles even wider with the circular movements. He put a hand over Stiles' soft, come-smudged cock, cupping it tenderly. “You can come again.”

Stiles spit a few choice words up at Derek, but for once Derek didn't seem to care. His face was so easy to read that it was almost painful for Stiles to look at. By no means was their relationship all about sex, but they didn't exchange sweet nothings or whisper to each other in the dark, either. The way Derek was staring down at him as they cuddled together on the couch, tied in the most intimate way...it scared Stiles.

“You're quiet,” Derek noted, tucking a strand of Stiles' hair back. 

“Aren't you happy?” Stiles half-asked half-joked. 

Derek frowned. “Am I hurting you?”

“No!” Stiles rushed to get out. “No, you're not. I feel full, and you're fucking ridiculously hung right now, but no. I'm fine.”

Derek leaned in for a kiss, crushing the wet satin panties between their chests. “Okay,” he said simply.

Eager to ignore the dual feelings of warmth and fear of said warmth in his chest, Stiles flailed for a distraction. “Why now?” he eventually asked, flicking his eyes down. “We've had sex before. Lots of sex....Lots.”

Derek answered with a furrowed brow. “We knot when our partners are most fertile. We were talking about your pussy and I was thinking about how I'd get to fill you up, imagining how your body might change if...if I bred you.”

Stiles felt his cock twitch. He gulped and stared up at Derek. His legs were still pushed back and he was completely at Derek's mercy, a position he often was in physically but rarely emotionally. Today he felt both, and it overwhelmed him.

“Oh,” Stiles replied faintly. 

Derek looked like he had something else to say, but instead of sharing he burrowed into Stiles' neck, hiding his face. Another few minutes and Stiles would start to ache from the muscle burn of his position but for now he let Derek get as close as he could. They were joined too tightly for thrusting to be pleasurable but that didn't stop Derek from driving Stiles crazy. He rubbed lightly at Stiles' body, up and down his arms and hands, licking at Stiles' nipples and rubbing up against his clit, never letting Stiles relax. Soon Stiles was ready to come again, moans caught in his throat as he stared up at Derek and let his body be worked over in whatever way Derek chose. His second orgasm came slowly, like seeing the sun after a long climb up a mountain.

The pain when Derek pulled out was a hazy, pleasure-tinged thing that floated around Stiles' head, sending sparks up his spine. Needy and wanting, his pussy spasmed on the sudden nothingness it was left with, Derek's cock finally gone soft and still on his thigh.

“Look at you,” Derek said roughly, hands spreading Stiles' cheeks. “Are you – “

“I'm fine,” Stiles said. It hurt, but in the best way.

Derek met Stiles' eyes, gaze a little shifty – not with mischievous plans or disparaging thoughts but with some sort of emotion he wanted to hide. Stiles licked his lips and reached up, thinking about tugging Derek down for a kiss, the one way he knew they could understand each other. At the last moment he stopped, scared of what he would find out if they kissed just then. 

“Let's put your panties back on,” Derek said, dragging the crumpled satin off of Stiles' chest and slipping them under Stiles' hips. “They'll keep me inside you longer.”

Stiles nodded, breathless, and let Derek maneuver him perfectly. The panties went on easily and Derek tied them tightly, double knotted at each side. He leaned down and kissed Stiles' clit through them, ignoring the dried come splattered over the fabric.

“Good girl,” he said, voice unreadable. “My good girl.”

**Author's Note:**

> prompt & follow at [ya3ani](http://www.ya3ani.tumblr.com).


End file.
